Rocky Mountain High
by Sen Graham
Summary: France, England, Canada and America have all turned into women…somehow.  Now they must go on an epic quest to reverse the gender bending.  Can they suceed before they start...enjoying themselves?
1. A Quick Lesson in Topography

Title: Rocky Mountain High

Summary: France, England, Canada and America have all turned into women…somehow. What will they do? And what do the Rockies have to do with any of this? CRACK

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Today's forcast includes talk of boobs and French-Canadian profanities with a 1% chance of yuri...

Inspired by a conversation I had with my friend DelMarch. I don't own Hetalia or the song Rocky Mountain High, but I acvocate the reading of damned books.

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France awoke to the beautiful sight of the beautiful Mont Blanc region before him. Wait…that wasn't right…Where was the Eiffel Tower! In a panic he sprang out of bed and looked in the mirror. He was…a she! Suddenly his entire life flashed before his eyes and somehow he felt that his name was now Marianne instead of Francis. Her…her name was Marianne! Franci- er Marianne inspected herself in the mirror, the panic and shock mostly gone now and grinned. She did have a nice pair of Mont Blancs…maybe she would take the day off for some mountain climbing in the Alps…

England was likewise not impressed when he found that he could not locate the Tower of London. Thinking he was dreaming, he went back to bed, then woke up and found the historic site was still missing. Instead he had a much, much different landscape before him. Scafell Pike to be exact. England cupped the pair of soft little fells on his chest, then like the true gentleman pirate he was, screamed like the little girl he had become, something had to be done about this immediately. Not knowing what else to do, he called his closest relation, America…

The land of the free and home of the awesomely brave was sleeping in of course. After a night partying and coming up with plans to be the hero and solve all the world's problems he needed his rest. Groggily he looked at the caller ID. England, of course it would be England, spoiling his much needed rest. He picked up the receiver and grumbled an irritated 'hello.'

"Alfred! Thank goodness, listen something terrible has happened!" America held the receiver far away from his ear. Damn England was loud this morning, and kind of squeaky.

"Dude, chill, what's going on now?" Alfred paused. His own voice was a bit strange. Whatever, it was probably all the crazy drinks last night at that awesome party.

"Listen to me very carefully Alfred. This may sound strange but you have to do exactly what I tell you," said England, trying to sound calm but really sounding a thousand times more panicked.

"Okay…" said Alfred. Hm, his voice really was strange today.

"You need to check if the…the uh…Washington Monument is still there…" said England awkwardly.

"Woah dude! The Washington Monument is off limits! I don't care how close we are!" yelled America. Damn, he really needed a glass of water or something.

"Fine, fine! Then, uh, how are the Rocky Mountains?" asked England.

"England, what the hell, you know the Rockies are totally Awesome. Well, the ones on my side are, Matt's are kind of lame," shrugged America.

"Canada too!" shrieked England in that squeaky voice.

Alfred was beginning to wonder if he was having trouble with his ears and not his voice. He brought the cordless phone with him to the bathroom while he went to find a Q-tip. "Just relax and tell me what's going on. And speak American! It's the only language I…" America looked in the bathroom mirror, "Uh…bro? Um, about the Rockies…I think uh…I'm not sure I realized just how big they were…"

Suddenly he heard a high pitched scream coming from next door, meaning that his little brother…or was it sister now… must have also realized that the Rockies were really, really big. Then he paused and thought back to his geography class. The Rockies were big, but, who had the bigger ones again. Alfred…was it right to call him-herself that now…was fairly sure that he had the bigger ones. He was after all the much cooler nation and must have the bigger Rockies for sure. Though, Canada was a big country, a really big country, and that CN tower of his was…the second largest in the world so. He shook his head, he had to know!

"Dude, call you back, I've got to ask Canada something!" and with that he hung up and ran off to his brother's.

"Papa…Papa je te besoin, tout suit!" Canada sobbed into the phone, looking down at the view of his magnificent Rockies with fear and anxiety.

"Non non, c'est Maman ma belle~" said France in his usual flirtatious voice.

"Qu-Quoi? Papa c'est un désastre! J-Je te besoin…je ne peu pas parler avec mon fière…" Canada continued to sob.

" Je suis un peu occupe ma belle Canada. Ahh…quelle magnifique montagnes…oh oui~" France trailed off.

"P-papa! Ques-ce-que tu fais!" demanded Canada, "Ce n'est pas drôle! Tabernac!"

Suddenly America burst into the room. The sight of Canada bawling into the phone blubbering in French was, well, different, but not completely unexpected. His brother had always been something of a daddy's boy, and a cry baby. He grabbed his brother…sister…whatever to stand up at his full height. He was still hiccupping making his massive chest heave and bounce around, so America had no clue who's Rockies were bigger. Oh well, there was one way to find out.

"Hey Matt, let me see those Rockies…" said Alfred, grabbing his brother's large bosom.

"A-Alfred!" yelped Canada and jumped back, "You're not allowed to touch them!"

"Relax, I just want to know how big they are," said America nonchalantly, making another grab at his brother's breasts.

"Am I the only one who thinks this is a problem!" cried Canada, dodging America.

"No you're not Canada," said a cool, but high pitched voice.

England stood in the doorway, arms crossed and flushing furiously. Alfred took in the sight of his older brother/father figure. For a few moments he blinked, then he squinted. He squinted for a good while, took of his glasses, and then squinted some more. Then a fit of giggles came, followed by peals of laughter. "Oh my god England you're as flat as a pancake!"

"Sh-shut up! So what if I don't have large…mountainous regions like some other nations. I'm the United Bloody Kingdom and you will respect me!" yelled England.

"Pft…just hope Francis doesn't see you like that…" chuckled America as the giggles died down.

"Not, Francis, Marianne~" cried a flirtatious voice, "Don't worry my dear Canada, you're mother is here to make it all better~"

Fr-Marianne skipped into the room and cradled Canada against her gigantic Alps, which only succeeded in disturbing and scaring the poor nation for life even more. France looked England over and then had a reaction much similar to that of America, with less squinting. "Oh my Angleterre! You're landscape is so-"

"Shut up! So what if I have a flat landscape! I can still kick your froggy ass!" screeched England.

Canada hiccupped and dried his tears, "Wh-what should we do? Are we the only ones like this…and what happened to our other landmarks?"

"I don't know dude but right now I want to know who's Rockies are bigger!" exclaimed America.

"I'm with Canada. I for one want to go back to normal as soon as possible," huffed England.

"I find myself on America's side. Come Canada, show you're maman how you measure up," said France with a creepy grin.

"Yeah dude! Do we totally have twin peaks or what?" demanded America, shoving his bosom up against his brother's.

England sighed, "This is completely idiotic…"

"You're just jealous because you're a flat flat flat country," huffed France, "Now make yourself useful and find a tape measure."

England sighed, and since it seemed Canada was at the mercy of France and America, he might as well go get the bloody measuring tape. He stared down at the Scafell Pike again and groaned. He was not jealous just, well, he wanted to get back to normal, that was it! Finding the measuring tape he went back to find…France shoving Canada against America…trying to see if he could estimate the difference…majestic…mountain ranges…before his very eyes….No! No! He was a gentleman! Gentlemen did not have such thoughts!

"Good job Angleterre, now hold still mes filles," cooed France as America eagerly raised his arms so the tape could be wrapped around his chest while Canada looked for a hiding place. "Oh my~ 4401 meters~"

England groaned and America let out a cry of victory. Then America stopped and thought, "Wait…what's that in feet?"

"14, 440 feet."

"Hell yeah! Beat that Matty!"

France then managed to coax Canada into raising his arms and not hiccupping or sobbing long enough to take a proper measurement. He frowned and sighed, "4398 meters…"

"In feet?"

"…14, 428 feet…"

"Oh yeah! Who's you're daddy!"

"Nobody is the daddy! And that's exactly the problem!" shouted England.

"This can't be right…let me measure again!" demanded France.

America sighed and let France measure him again. There was no way his brother could out grow him in that short amount of time, so why not retake the measurements? He had Canada beat. So much for his precious CN tower…

"As I suspected…Canada has much more prominence~" said France satisfied.

"P-papa…arête…s'il vous plait…" whined Canada.

"What! No! That doesn't mean anything! I'm bigger…or am I…dammit Francis or Marianne or whoever you are! Who's bigger!"

England at this point had sighed and went to go sulk in a corner. He hoped this wasn't an isolated incident and that maybe, just maybe there were countries out there with much less elevation than him.

"_Colorado Rocky Mountain High_

_I've seen it raining fire in the sky_

_The shadow from the starlight_

_Is softer than a lullaby _

_Rocky mountain high!"_

_

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_

French Translations:

_"D-daddy, I need you right now"_

___"No, no, it's mommy my beauty."_

_____"W-what! Daddy, it's a desaster. I can't talk to my brother...I need you right now!"_

____"I'm a little busy my beautiful Canada. Ahh...what magnificent mountains...Oh yes~"

"D-daddy! What are you doing? This isn't funny! Tabernacle"

Note: Tabernac, though translating literally as tabernacle (the place where the eucharist is kept in Catholic churches) is considered one of the most proface words in the French-Canadian dialect. For more information of French Canadian Profanities, read a damned book :3


	2. The Meeting

The Meeting

Germany sighed and resisted the urge to repeatedly hit his head against his desk. The meeting of nations had very literally come out of nowhere. None of the nations had any warning, but were told to assemble themselves as quickly as possible at the request of Canada, France, England and America. So, while England screeched in his ear, Germany got cleaned up, packed and left for the meeting place. Which meeting place? He was not exactly sure himself…it seemed that whenever someone wanted all the nations, and he did mean all of them, to meet they would all somehow wind up at this place. There was something strange about it indeed, but then again, being the living personification of a country was not exactly normal.

Italy of course had taken his place beside him, making that 'vee' sound that just seems to come out when he's content and has nothing better to do. The red haired former axis power kicked his feet lazily under the table. It could be worse, he could have been talking quickly about pasta, or telling Germany how ugly his women were. Yes it could be worse, but the meeting was still an inconvenience. He did have things he needed to do after all.

Then he saw something he did not expect. Strangers at the meeting? Yes, they looked like America, Canada and France, but they certainly could not be them. They were women. He had often heard that one of Canada's provinces often threatened to become its own country. Perhaps they had somehow split and this was the infamous 'Quebec-kun' that haunted his nightmares? Was this what the meeting was about. But if that was the case, who were the other two?

The America look alike went to the head of the table exclaiming, "I'm the hero…hero-ette? Heroine? Wait…isn't that a drug? Never mind! The four of us have called this emergency meeting because some crazy shit happened and now we're women. Personally, I blame Russia!"

"A-alfred…the cold war ended…in the eighties…" whispered who Germany assumed to be Quebec.

Germany blinked. Crazy shit? Women? Well, that explained everything and yet nothing at all. Russia, who had arrived just as he had been blamed, sat down at his place with a happy serial killer smile on his childlike face. America faltered slightly but continued, "The four of us have no idea how or why this happened, but we're open to suggestions on how to fix it!"

"Vee? But…only three of you changed…" pouted Italy in his confusion.

"Shut up! Yes, FOUR of us!" yelled England.

"But you have no boobs…" said Italy bluntly.

"SHUT UP!" screamed England, "So what if I'm flat! I've got a bloody commonwealth! I don't see anybody else here with a commonwealth!"

France, sans-stubble and having taken time to change into something more, well, fitting, took center stage. "As much as I love poking fun at pauvre Angleterre…this is serious. We have no idea how this affects our homes or our people, or what effect it will have, so we must reverse it quickly…which is unfortunate…I sort of like this."

"Uh…yeah, what Fr- uh, Marianne…was trying to say is we need suggestions, so start suggesting!" exclaimed America.

"Oh I know, eat some pasta! Pasta always makes things better~" suggested Italy.

"I'm not sure…" said Canada gently.

"You could live a good life, build lots of temples and hope to be reincarnated as a man," suggested China.

"Alright, a suggestion that doesn't involve dying," said England, giving China a big British thumbs down.

"I've got it!" exclaimed Spain, snapping his fingers, "Everyone stand close together."

The four genderbent nations huddled together staring intently at Spain. Spain moved closer, taking a few long deep breaths, as if preparing to use some sort of ultimate technique. He stretched out his arms and took one last deep breath. Canada, France, America and England all looked on intently.

"Fusososososososo~" said Spain with a big goofy grin, "A charm to make things better amigas~"

"Amiga my ass!" whined a disappointed America.

"Well, if that is all for the meeting…I'm off to study my topography~" said France, blowing a kiss that made nearly every male nation and a few female ones have a nose bleed, and skipped off to the bathroom. Canada hung his/her head in shame and sat in his chair, only to be stared at uncomfortably by Japan.

"Anyhow, you three should wear something more…comfortable," offered Ukraine, "I have some spare shirts."

"Aw dude you're a lifesaver! I was totally having a hard time breathing and these pants are super tight on my ass," laughed America.

"N-nothing's tight on me…" England grumbled to him/herself and went off to sulk in a corner like a gentleman.

"I-I have just the thing for Canada-san! P-please accompany me," said a flustered Japan, taking Canada's hand and running off to another room.

England groaned. France was doing god only knew what in the bathroom, America was the same size as Ukraine and it seemed Canada had become quite the attractive woman and was getting plenty of attention. The island nation curled up hugging her knees to her small chest. She was attractive too...so what if she was not big, or loud or flirty. It did not matter, she was the United Kingdom and could still command respect whether male or female. Resolutely she stood up. There had to be someone present who would know what to do, someone who had not spoken. England strode over to Greece and tapped him on the shoulder, rousing the cat loving nation from his slumber.

"Greece, surely with your wealth of knowledge on ancient and mystical matters you've heard of people swapping gender spontaneously," demanded England, holding her shoulders back and standing as straight as she could.

Greece stared off into space for a moment, and England certainly hoped he was doing so because he was deep in thought. Finally, in a slow care free tone he said, "Actually, there is one story about Tiresias."

"Of course!" exclaimed England, palming her forehead, "The blind prophet! What happened in this story?"

"Hm, well, my mother told me a story where one day Tiresias happened upon a couple of snakes having intercourse. He struck one on the head and was turned into a woman as punishment. Seven years later he found another pair of snakes and…I can't remember…either left them alone or trampled on them…" said Greece, the years having made his memory a little fuzzy.

"So…basically we find a pair of snakes, uh, doing their thing, and either trample them or watch?" asked England.

Greece nodded, "Pretty much…I guess…"

"I suppose it's better than nothing…Now do we have to go to Greece and do this or will any pair of snakes do?"

Greece shrugged and nodded back off to sleep.

"Well, we'll go to Greece just to be sa…Japan what is that thing you've forced on Canada!"

Canada had her short 'silky French hair' done up in little pigtails and was wearing what looked like a pink maid's uniform. A very short maid's uniform. That showed plenty of beautiful…mountain…no! No! Gentlemen don't think that way! Besides, the Canada was half French! French! He would never think that way about something French!

"N-now…" said Japan nervously, but excited, "Say 'Mikuru beam' please,"

"M-Mikuru beam," said Canada flushing and slightly teary eyed, holding his fingers in a peace sign over his eye.

"I-Incredible…never before have I beheld this amount of moé in a room before…" gasped Japan, "Canada-san…I never knew…"

"Japan stop trying to turn Canada into a moé battle maid from the future!" England grabbed his former colony by the collar and dragged her to the women's bathroom, hoping France was done…whatever she had been doing up to this point. England kicked the bathroom door in as France was washing her hands.

"Come on, we're going to Greece, I found us a lead," announced England haughtily.

"Well you had to be good for something, since you are not much to look at…Ah! Canada! Tres belle ma fille…vienes ici…je veux voir…" finished France with a creepy look on her face.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. I'll give you six hours to make arrangements, be packed and ready to leave," ordered England, turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

"W-wait! England, come back!" squeaked Canada.

England left Canada screaming for help and struggling with France. She huffed to herself and went to find America. Really, only that French bastard would grope her little sister/daughter figure and not see anything wrong with it. Sure none of them were blood relatives, but it was still so wrong, and on so many levels. Nobody would catch England doing that. She was a true gentleman about such things and would never ever do that with any of her former colonies.

Then America came around the corner in a revealing top curiously of Ukraine. Certainly there must have been a sharp change in elevation or the air was really dry because England was certainly not getting a nosebleed from looking at America. There was just no way she would do such a thing!

"Thanks Ukraine, you're the best dude," called America as he waved goodbye, "Yo, England, what's up with your nose?"

"I-I'm afraid the climate isn't agreeing with me…" said England, "We're heading to Greece's. Apparently according to his mythology there's a way to change ourselves back there."

"Awesome dude, I'll get some grub for the road," said America nonchalantly, not noticing that England's heart was now pounding a mile a minute and her face was red as a tomato.

No, no this couldn't be! This genderbending was messing with his brain…or was it? Wait, England might have the body of a woman but her mind was still that of a man! Being around these busty women was…oh no…this gender bending was turning her into a pervert! No, she must be a gentleman! A true English gentleman! England wiped her nose and marched towards the exit. She would pack and go to Greece, the others would be lost without her leadership.

Meanwhile, Russia was laughing evilly. "America is going to blame me da? Well, we'll see about that…"

Meanwhile, meanwhile, Germany wondered why he even came, since none of this had anything to do with him in the first place.


	3. Road Trip of Doom!

Chapter 3: The road trip of doom!

"Are we there yet?"

"No Alfred…."

"How about now?"

"No Alfred…little sod…"

"Now?"

"No! Alfred we haven't even left the driveway yet!" yelled England.

"Someone is testy," cooed France, "What is the problem…that time of month already?"

England then repeatedly banged his head against the dashboard. Why was Canada not here yet? Canada was always late! Always! Mostly from sleeping in, but this was the last straw. When she arrived, England was determined to give her a stern talking to. What could have her so busy anyways? The others had managed to arrive on time at America's, and they had all planned to go to the air port together, meet Greece, and find the snakes. Where was Canada and what could she possibly be doing?

"S-sorry I'm late!" called Canada, running up with a haphazardly packed suitcase and still wearing the dress Japan had forced on her at the meeting.

"What the bloody hell were you doing!" demanded England.

"S-sorry, I had to find a baby sitter for Kumajiro…not many people will look after a polar bear," Canada trailed off quietly, putting her bag in the trunk.

"So who's you get?" asked America.

"Cuba agreed to do it," said Canada cheerfully.

Instantly America crossed her arms and huffed, the mention of a communist nation immediately put her into a negative funk. France laughed and looked in the rear view mirror to adjust the makeup she had somehow acquired in the last six hours. Canada sighed and sat next to her bro-sister in the back seat. Somehow he hoped that France had just bought the stuff, the thought of his-her Father having and using the stuff before their bizarre transformation was just a little too disturbing for her. America irately kicked the back of England's seat.

"America stop kicking the seat, I'm trying to back out," snapped England.

"Oui America, be nice to our poor flat friend," said France.

"Will you shut up about my chest you bloody frog!" screeched England, nearly backing into a mail box.

Canada held his knees to his chest and tried to think happy thoughts as England furiously pulled out and started to drive…well she was not sure how fast but it was certainly too fast.

"Dude, wrong side of the road! We're in America! We drive normally here!" yelled America. Heroically she undid her seat belt and sprang up snatching the wheel and boldly swerving the car to the correct side of the street. England, who was now thoroughly smothered my America's large Rocky Mountain range flailed helplessly in the driver's seat. "I'll save you England! I'm the heroine!"

"Notre Père, qui es aux cieux,que ton nom soit sanctifié » Canada squeaked quietly, clasping her hands together in prayer.

« Amérique, really, you give new meaning to the phrase 'back seat driver' » said France coolly, "Now stop crushing Angleterre so we can actually get somewhere."

America pouted and backed off. England gasped for air and stared at the road with a frenzied look in his eyes, the expression of a woman who had just had a close brush with death. America shrugged and pulled out a brown paper bag with a set of golden arches on it and began to eat an insane pile of hamburgers. France huffed, slightly envious of America's metabolism and looked behind herself into the back seat. "Canada, you cannot sit like that if you are going to wear a dress."

Canada gasped and stopped hugging her knees to herself, and quickly sat in a more modest position. France smiled sympathetically and patted Canada's head. "It takes some getting used to ma fille, I'll make a lady of you yet."

"I don't get it France," said England finally, "This whole being a girl bollix seems to come naturally to you but it doesn't to the rest of us."

France shrugged, "I'm not sure why myself. When I woke up I was surprised, but for some reason I just thought, 'Oh, I'm Marianne.' I'm not sure how to explain it. Now, how far is this airport anyhow."

"Pft, we're not going to just any airport. We're going to my private hanger. Don't worry, the heroine is going to be the pilot and get us all safely to Greece's place," assured America, "You can start worshiping my awesomeness now."

"Angleterre…" said France with a slight glare. France did not like the way America flew. Not in the least. Especially not the loops and barrel roles.

"Well then France, you can use a normal airport and explain why you're passport says you're a man," snapped England, "Besides, Canada's co-piloting, so we should be fine."

"What! Little miss goody-snow-shoes? This'll be no fun…" groaned America, "Matty's pilots suck! I can't be the hero with him making me go by the book! What kind of badass hero goes by the book!"

"My pilots don't suck! We have the snowbirds and Billy Bishop!" Canada retorted.

"Yeah, coloured smoke and a dead guy, big deal…"

"Quiet both of you! Now, we also can't bloody well go around calling ourselves Matthew, Alfred and Arthur with bodies like this, it'll be an inconvenience. Perhaps you ought to think a new name," suggested England, trying to keep piece in the vehicle.

"Ah, Canada, you could be Madeleine. That is a good French name," suggested France, winking at Canada, "And very sweet~"

"Ha! Madeline! Like that dorky French cartoon!" laughed America.

"The book was actually written by an Austrian born American author named-" began Canada.

"Nerd!" yelled America, causing England to jump and swerve the car slightly, "I think I'll be…Freda Jones. Easy enough to remember."

"I'm not sure there is a feminine form of Arthur," pondered England, parking the car by America's hanger, "And if there is, like Arthurine or Arthurina, they sound putrid."

"Then they suit you," said France, elegantly stepping out of the car, Canada and America marvelling at how she had mastered the art of walking in heels already. England growled and went to unpack the trunk of the car. She looked over at America, who was licking ketchup from her fourteenth burger off her fingers. Licking…ketchup…fingers…England wiped her nose and went to her former colony.

"You can still fly this thing right?" asked England.

"Of course, I'm the heroine!" smirked America, "Hey…hee hee…Madeline, you ready to co-pilot my awesomeness and find some Greek snakes getting it on!"

Canada was carefully repacking the contents of her suitcase so it would shut properly and nodded. Canada…French…maid outfit…moé…England went to go find a box of tissues and prepare for the long transatlantic flight ahead of them.

France stood by looking glamorous and grinning, "I knew it…Angleterre is the bigger pervert." Armed with this new and dangerous knowledge she sauntered off while the other three made their preparations for the trip and for takeoff. She had just the thing for this moment. A plan, a devious evil plan, but not for now. Marianne would wait and savour her triumph when the time was right.

_Scene change no jutsu!_

Meanwhile back at the ranch- er Russia, the cold and childishly cruel nation was getting one of his curses ready. America blaming him without just cause was really not very nice. And now they were going to Greece's house and nobody thought to invite him. No, it was not very nice at all. True, his curses took a little time to take effect, but it would be worth it. And when America saw the error of his ways, he would apologize and all would be one with Russia…or at least crushed under his boot.

* * *

_Welcome to another session of Read a Damn book!~ The part of the fic where Sen promotes book reading goodness. Sen is very aware Hetalia fans are some of the most well read given the amount of Language and History research that goes into fic writing, but you can never read too many books! Also this is the reference page~_

_Tiresias- the blind prophet from Greek mythology who also appears in The Odyssey. There is in fact a legend where he is turned into a woman for seven years. I am not making this up!_

_Mikuru Beam – Japan forces Canada to cosplay as a character from The Meloncholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, who is one of the most well known moé characters around. If you haven't read or watched the series, I recommend you do._

_Topography – I didn't make England flat to be mean. Honest. England's a flat country, hence flat chested._

_Marianne – The historical personification of France is a woman named Marianne. Perhaps France is more in touch with his feminine side because his people see him as a woman?_

_Notre Pere – Canada is saying the first few lines of The Lord's Prayer in French._

_Snow Birds – The Snow Birds are a Canadian icon and demonstration team of pilots made up of serving Canadian forces members. They use a lot of coloured smoke in their shows. Check them out sometime._

_Billy Bishop – A World War I flying ace and a Canadian and is credited with 72 victories._

_Madeline – A popular children's book and television series about a red haired, orphaned Parisian girl and her adventures. As mentioned, the author was not French, but an Austrian born American. Madeleine is also the name of a type of French butter cookie._

_Arthurine – I looked it up, and those two names seem to be the 'correct' feminine form of the name Arthur. My apologies to anyone named Arthurina or Arthurine but…really?_


	4. DO A BARREL ROLE

DO A BARREL ROLE!

America huffed as the plane glided smoothly along the transatlantic flight. Too smoothly, with minimal turbulence. It was so incredibly boring. If she had been by herself she certainly would have done something to make the flight more entertaining, or at least interesting. Unfortunately England had told her not to practice her barrel roles. That was the problem with England, she was always such a stick in the mud. Before she had actually been really cool. She had been a pirate and an explorer and now she just seemed like a boring grumpy old lady, even when she had been a man she seemed like a grumpy old lady. That and stupid France got airsick. America giggled to herself, imagining France getting sick all over her new outfit. Yeah, that would have been pretty funny.

She glanced over at her brother, now sister 'Madeline' who was checking air temperatures and pressures. Canada would never let her do anything extreme or cool. There was hope for Canada though, she could be cool from time to time when she was not being a whiny little mama's girl. Even when Canada had been a boy she had been a little cry baby, always saying sorry even when she was right and trying not to offend people. But there was hope. That little streak of passive aggressiveness that let her kick ass from time to time. Perhaps with a little time and guidance Canada could be a good sidekick, or backup. She was already a pretty good hat.

"Hey Maddy, can't I just do one little barrel role? You used to like it when I did barrel roles," whined America, "Please?"

"Alf- Freda…" sighed Canada, "I promised England I'd tell you no, and besides, France gets airsick, you know that."

"Please? I'll be your best friend," pleaded America.

"You're already my best friend," Canada reminded her.

"Oh, right…I'll be your…damn how much close can we get without being gay together?" wondered America.

"Don't say things like that…Hungary is always trying to set us up as it is," whispered Canada. He whispered, since he fully believed that much like Big Brother, Hungary was always watching.

"Dude, you had to know it was coming when you legalized gay marriage. That was just asking for it," laughed America.

"I'm not gay. What my people decide to legalize has nothing to do with my sexuality. Besides…I have two 'fathers' so it makes sense to me…" explained Canada.

America paused and looked at his brother, "Wait…was that an elaborate insinuation about France and England being gay disguised as you being all accepting and diverse?"

Canada flushed and looked away, "Promise not to tell…?"

* * *

America burst out laughing; there was hope for his brother yet.

"Angleterre…if I die…I wanted you to know…"

England groaned and covered her face with her arm. Her seat was tilted back as far back as it would go and she was trying to sleep. And, wouldn't you know it, every time she had been close to drifting off to sleep, France had just one more thing she wanted England to know in case she died on the flight. Really, France was such a drama queen, always being overly melodramatic over the stupidest little things.

"Fine, what is it this time?" demanded England. The last time France had wanted to make sure England knew 'I'd always hated you most' and the time before that 'I had an affair with Scotland' (which was not so secret really) and the time before that 'Your suit makes your head look fat.'

"I've always thought your sister was hot," moaned France forlornly as she lay sprawled in her seat 'dying.'

"France, are you trying to provoke me," snapped England, sitting up.

"I thought you ought to know…I like your sister, and your brother, your other brother not so much, and your youngest brother is too young for me…" rambled France through 'desperate gasps for breath.'

"You do realize the last thing I want to hear is how badly you want to shag Scotland and Ireland," growled England, "One more word and I'll be forced to hurt you."

"Oh good, then you can stop staring at _my_ Canada before I'm forced to hurt you," said France grinning wickedly, suddenly recovering her health.

"Your Canada! He- She's in my commonwealth!" protested England.

France undid her seatbelt and stood over England, one hand on either side of his face. She leaned in until her face was dangerously close to England's and glared intensely into the island nation's green eyes. France might have been a pervert, but at the moment she was a mother protecting her daughter. "You listen and listen well, if I hear of you or catch you doing anything beyond looking with Canada, I will ensure that as soon as you get the 'Tower of London' back, it will be the last time you shall ever be in possession of it. Tu comprendes?"

England was listening, she really was, but it was very hard with twin Mont Blancs crushing her ribcage. "Fine, fine, shut up and get off before you kill me!"

France huffed and stood up straight, her protective, motherly moment over, "I'm glad we understand each other. Canada is off limits, though if you want Ameriqué is all yours."

"What the hell makes you think I want America or Canada! You pervert! You were the one just talking about Ireland and Scotland!" yelled England, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Please, you look at her so longingly with a flushed face, and the blood coming from the nose," sighed France dramatically, "Or could it be you just like full figured women, even if they are related to you?"

"Stupid cheese eating surrender monkey! You dare insult my integrity as a gentleman!" demanded England.

"You act as if it's the first time I have," sneered France.

"B-besides! You had your hands all over Canada. Don't you dare call me a pervert!" snapped England.

France gave England a confused look, "Isn't that how mothers act with their daughters?"

"It most certainly is NOT!" yelled England.

France shrugged, "I'm going to freshen up, let me know if we hit any-"

Suddenly France and England were flung around the aircraft, their feet suddenly swept out from under them as they tumbled around the jet. Stray objects collided with them in the air as they were tossed about, feeling much like stray socks in a spin cycle. Suddenly the horrible spinning stopped and the two Europeans crashed to the floor.

"Wooo~ Barrel Role!" cried a voice from the cockpit.

"Alferd! I said no barrel role! NO BARREL ROLE! What if they didn't have seatbelts on!" squeaked another voice.

"Alfred Jones you are in big trouble young ma- Young lady!" yelled England as she burst into the cockpit. Upon entry she promptly grabbed America's throat and proceeded to strangle her. "You could have killed us!"

Alfred, who usually had a clever reply for such situations, was too busy choking and trying to fly the jet. Canada would have normally tried to pry them apart, but was too busy panicking and trying to fly the jet to do so. France would have laughed, but with all of the sudden turbulence and the possibility of plummeting to their deaths sobered her up quite a bit.

"England! Stop! We're all gonna die!" yelled Canada, who had given up on flying the jet himself and flung herself at England.

Then, something interesting happened. As Canada's gigantic rockies collided with England's back it triggered a typical biological reaction from England, causing blood to spew out his nose. France, with the combined turbulence, possibility of death and blood spewing around the cockpit, threw up an ungodly volume of…well…you know. In the confusion, America managed to slip out of England's grip and stop the jet from plummeting into the Atlantic Ocean.

"I saved the day! I'm the hero~ Can I do a celebratory barrel role?"

"NO!"

"BARREL ROLL!"

* * *

Greece stood waiting at the airport gate holding a sign. A few people gave him confused glances. It could have been that he held a sign reading 'America, Canada, England, France, Welcome to Greece' or it could have been that he had five cats clinging to him. Either way, Greece was quite used to strangers staring at him, and he did not really mind. The people who knew him well understood him, and that was all that mattered. He sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot, careful not to upset any of the cats clinging to his clothes.

Then America, Canada, France and England emerged from the gate. Greece stared at them blankly. Canada was wearing a maid's uniform and had her all too short hair done up in pigtails. France's front was covered with something unrecognizable and she looked like she was about to fall over. The lower half of England's face as well as most of his shirt was covered in what suspiciously looked like blood. America just looked satisfied.

"So…did you have a nice flight?"


	5. Snake Hits the Fan, Among Other Things

Snake hits the fan among other things

"Dammit have sex already!"

Freda Jones glared at the pair of snakes at Attica zoological park. They had come all the way to Greece just to see these snakes get it on and all they could do was stare at each other like the pair of stupid snakes they were. England sighed and ducked his head behind a Greek-English dictionary, trying to avoid the curious stares of locals and tourists alike as America continued to yell and carry on like a child. He certainly hoped that nobody around here spoke English, or was going to make a video of this to put on the internet.

Greece watched America with lazy interest, stroking a cat on his lap thoughtfully. Loud people who spoke their minds all the time fascinated him, as he was a more reserved and quiet person himself. He looked at the snakes, who seemed to be successful at ignoring the crazy American screaming at them from behind the glass wall.

"Dammit why won't they just do it!" exclaimed America, tapping the glass, "Hey Greece, anyway we can dim the lights in there, maybe get some soft music going?"

"I don't think that works for snakes…." replied Greece.

"America stop making a fool of yourself, you might get us into trouble," insisted England, "Perhaps I should have sent you with France and Canada."

"To go shopping? No way! I'm the heroine! And heroines don't go shopping on the job! They get shit done!" explained America with heaps of enthusiasm, "Though I can understand Maddie going, none of her clothes fit anymore and we couldn't let her run around Greece in a maid outfit."

"It might have helped our publicity…" said Greece lazily.

"Greece, do you really want to be known as a country where women prance about in skimpy maid outfits?" asked England.

"….better than being known for protestors and huge national debt…" Greece thought out loud.

England grimaced and nodded slightly in agreement. He had forgotten Greece was a member of the PIIGS quintet, the other four members being Portugal, Ireland, Italy and Spain. Now that he thought about it, Greece had been skipping out on quite a few world meetings, citing 'cutting costs' as the reason. He had not seen much of Portugal, Ireland or Spain either. Italy kept showing up quite cheerfully though, as it seemed not even an economic crisis could dampen his spirits. England sighed, he wished he could be more cheerful in the face of disasters. He would never go to the extent of shovelling forkfuls of pasta into his face or skipping in circles around Germany, but England had to admire the red haired nations unfailing optimism.

"Oh Angleterre, we have returned~"

Any thoughts of being optimistic failed him as England turned and glowered at France. The two beautiful, full figured countries turned the heads of every man, and even most of the women they passed as they made their way through the reptile exhibit. France had changed from her vomit covered outfit into a casual, blue sundress with long skirts that fluttered about like a gay butterfly on crack. Canada flushed and clung to France's arm as people stared at her in her plain white blouse and black kilt, feeling very self conscious.

"Wow bro, you look good in drag," marvelled America.

"I don't like it…it feels too breezy…" whispered Canada, "I wish I had bought pants…skirts feel too weird…"

"You need to live a little Madeleine," cooed France, "And besides, we make a very attractive pair like this no? You don't want to ruin this beautiful scene do you?"

"Just wear shorts underneath, if you don't like it. Ireland does that all the time," suggested England, watching the snakes.

England watched the snakes slither about, taking little interest in each other, finding that the halls had become surprisingly quiet. England turned to see what had silenced his companions and found that they were all staring at him with horrified expressions. "What?"

"Dude...you know what your sister wears…under her skirt?" said America.

"That's really indecent England…" gasped Canada.

"I knew you were the more perverted one," said France, satisfied.

Greece nodded in agreement, feeling a moment of solidarity with his fellow PIIGS.

"No! No that isn't what I meant at all!" yelped England, "I know because she's always running around and her skirt flew up once and-"

"Dude, you looked!" exclaimed America.

"N-not on purpose…" squeaked England.

America blinked once or twice. America did come off as an air-head, but when she put her mind to it and decided to think about something, one could always tell she was very focused and concentrated on the subject. She took England's arm and led her up further into the reptile exhibits, catching the attention of a few very curious bearded lizards. "So…what colour were they…the shorts…"

England blinked, "Is it really alright to ask that about someone who's practically your aunt?"

America flushed and bit her lip, "Well, we're not related by blood, and I'm curious…I'm still a dude under all this you know."

England somehow felt relieved at those words. She was not entirely sure why, but it felt somehow like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She then started as he realized America was looking on expectantly, determined to know what colour those shorts were.

"Can't really remember…green maybe?" shrugged England, "And I'll have you know I was not looking on purpose."

"Sure…hey, can you tell me how you 'accidentally' saw so I can try it on Ukraine?" asked America.

England was about to protest and insist on his innocence when France called out, "You two, come back quickly! They're doing something over here!"

England and America dashed back. France and Greece peered into the glass with bored expressions as Canada blushed furiously, hoping nobody was making a youtube video of him watching snakes reproduce. England watched carefully as one snake had slithered on top of the other, it's body twitched violently as the one on the bottom laid there quietly. England looked around nervously, much like Canada worrying what others might think of the display then went back to watching.

"How do we know they aren't wrestling?" asked America, "I can't see anything happening. A mean, do snakes even have boy and girl parts?"

"I think t-they are…" said Canada quietly, "and the reason you can't see is because-"

"NERD!" yelled America, slapping her sister on the back.

"Of course they are making love you fool, can't you see the unbridled lust in his eyes?" huffed France, "Honestly Amerique, you would not know l'amour if it ran up and bit you in the face."

"Guys…I think something is wrong…" said Greece, pointing into the tank.

The four looked on and saw that both snakes were now twitching violently and thrashing about. They both let out a loud his and exploded.

The snakes just exploded, all over the glass.

"Um…do snakes u-usually e-explode when they have sex?" asked America shakily.

Greece looked around as small children wept in fear as ever snake in the zoo spontaneously combusted, "I didn't think so…but now I'm not sure…"

"Either way…look, we followed the legend but we're still women, and there's snake guts everywhere," grumbled England as security guards came to inspect the cages.

"Maybe we should have watched longer…or we had to separate them?" wondered Canada out loud.

"I think the explosions separated them for us," huffed France, "Well, I suppose it's back to the drawing board mes amies."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Russian Ranch

Russia laughed heartily as he watched the video he had sent Latvia to record incognito. He had been watching, concentrating on the snakes since the meeting ended and had been overjoyed when America and England had arrived at the exhibit. He laughed as the stupid American yelled for the snakes to start having sex only to be scolded by the Englishman. He laughed his evil Russian laugh as he concentrated all his evil cursing powers. He leaned back, satisfied as the snakes exploded and he heard Latvia squeak in fear.

Russia giggled and went over the footage again and again. It was priceless. The whole thing. Feeling particularly evil he logged into his youtube account and uploaded it. _"Perverted tourists watching snake-sex get surprised"_. The childish nation nodded to himself in approval and was very satisfied with his work. Watching the video one last time to make sure everything was uploaded properly, something he had not noticed before caught his attention.

"Lithuania, get in here," called Russia.

The trembling Baltic nation hurried into Russia's lair of evil Russian-ness, "Y-you called Mr. Russia?"

Russia pointed to the screen, "Has Canada always been pretty?"

Lithuania blinked, "I…think so? I'm not really sure…I never noticed him…uh…her before."

Russia looked back at the screen, which was paused with a clear view of Canada shrieking as snake guts splattered all over the glass. Russia smiled childishly, "She looks so cute like that. I'm going to make her do it again. Tell Latvia to keep one step ahead of them."


	6. What the hell DO girls do at sleepovers?

What the hell DO girls do at sleepovers?

"Well, there goes our first lead, any ideas?" asked England.

France shrugged as Canada and America glued themselves to the television set. Neither of them understood much Greek, but they could understand that there was an investigation going on at the zoo, and someone had put a video of them freaking out over the exploding snakes on youtube, which had apparently gone viral. England leaned against the wall and thought. The only ones who had suggested anything at the meeting had been China and Italy. Italy had suggested pasta of course, while China had suggested something that sounded very Buddhist. China, though his suggestion involved dying, was their sole lead at the moment, so they really might as well pick up their trail there.

England snapped her fingers loudly, trying to get the attention of the others, but France had decided to occupy herself with a mirror and the North America Sisters we still bemoaning their newfound online infamy. "Then nobody will mind if we try China next?"

"Yeah…sure dude…" grumbled America.

Canada quietly nodded and cringed as he watched the television set.

"Mhmm…whatever you say," said France, applying a fresh layer of lipstick.

England palmed her forehead and flopped onto the bed. They had decided on getting two adjoining two bed rooms at the Hotel Grade Bretagne. It was a very luxurious place, with camel coloured walls with light pink bedspreads and chairs, giving it a bright and pleasant look. The bathrooms were immaculately kept with black marble counter tops, decorative vases with flowers and fresh towels. Greece had been generous enough to allow them to stay for free, on the condition that Canada and France take a few photos for fliers promoting the Greek tourism industry. Which was really not a bad deal in the least. England and America got a free stay in a five star hotel and did not have to do anything.

"So, who's staying with who?" asked England, staring at the ceiling as he almost felt himself sink into the fluffy bed, "I am not staying with France."

"Aw, but I wanted to stay with Maddie…" whined America, pulling her sister into a tight hug, "We don't get much bonding time anymore."

"You have the longest undefended border in history, and you don't get much bonding time?" asked England.

"Well…things have been busy lately…and especially with the recession, we don't seem to have time," explained Canada.

"I still don't want to stay with France…" mumbled England, not really wanting to separate the brothers, but not wanting to listen to France sleep-talk when she had…those…kinds of dreams.

"I was rather hoping for some time with Madeliene myself," said France, winking at England, "Don't you want to catch up with Angleterre Amerique?"

"But…but…we were going to do fun girly sleepover things!" pouted America.

Canada tilted his head, "What kinds of things?"

"I…don't…know…" said America slowly, "But seeing as we're girls, we might as well take advantage of it. We can do all kinds of things now and if anyone says anything, we can tell them our brains were bombarded by estrogens."

England rolled her eyes at the notion, "Yes, the power of female hormones compels you."

"Again, what kinds of things?" asked Canada.

"I don't know, watch movies, pillow fights, eat junk food," rambled America.

"But we do that when we're boys too," noted Canada, "Was there something really girly you had in mind?"

America paused and pondered, "Now that I think about it, I really have no idea what girls do at sleepovers…"

"Oh you know, talk about boys, braid each other's hair, makeovers, manicures…" shrugged France.

The other three looked at France stunned, but somehow, not all that surprised that France knew the inner workings of the female mind. Though at the same time, they wanted to know HOW France knew the inner workings of the female mind. England hesitantly piped up, "France, did you, perhaps…spy on them?"

"What? No, not spy…just happened to be…walking by…on a roof…at night…with infrared goggles… and listening devices…" said France innocently.

England spluttered, "You did spy you wine loving tool! Who was it! Who did you spy on!"

"Yeah, who did you spy on," asked America, now very curious, "Did you overhear anything about us?"

France grinned and sat cross legged on the floor, "Everyone into your pyjamas and grab a pillow. I will tell you everything."

England growled and went to retrieve his pyjamas. This was completely idiotic. The whole situation was absolutely ludicrous. From the gender change, to the exploding snakes to the girly slumber patry. England changed into a set of flannel pyjamas with a tartan pattern (a gift from Scotland), America wore an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers, Canada it seemed had bought a nightgown that would fit her better than her plaid pyjamas. The three gathered around France, who pulled Canada beside herself and proceeded to braid her 'daughter's' hair.

"Well, you see, I was minding my own business…on a rooftop…at night…with infrared goggles and listening devices…when I happened to discover a number of the female nations having a slumber party," explained France.

"Who!" demanded England, "You better not have been spying on my sister!"

France rolled her eyes, "She wasn't there. You know she would rather shoot herself in the head than admit she has a feminine side. Anyhow, there was Hungary, Seychelles, Lichtenstein, Taiwan, Wy, Belarus, Ukraine, my dearest Indochine-"

"Who?" asked America.

"You know, Vietnam," explained Canada softly, "She used to be a French colony."

"Suddenly…I feel really bad for her…" mumbled America, "Oh wow…I feel like such a bully…If I'd known she'd spent her childhood with France…"

"As I was saying!" huffed France, "They were all in their pyjamas, which left too much to the imagination in my opinion, and they were talking about boys."

"Which boys?" asked America.

"The ones they found cute…" said France slyly.

The three stared at the Frenchwoman and shuffled in a little closer. It was England who finally broke the silence, "So…who do they find…cute?"

"Well, Belarus adores Russia of course," said France in a matter-of-fact way, "And she threatened to kill anyone who disagreed."

"D-Did…Ukraine say…" stuttered Canada, blushing red.

"Well…she did mention someone with blue eyes, glasses and blond hair…" purred France, "I think you have a chance."

"No way, she totally meant me!" huffed America, "I'm the hero, chicks love the hero, not the wimpy sidekick."

"I'm not your sidekick!" protested Canada, blushing, "A-And who says I d-don't have a chance? That is…if I l-like her…I'm n-not saying I have a crush…I mean…I could…and I'm not saying I don't but…oh maple…"

"Oh my, a love triangle pitting siblings against each other!" cried France, clapping her hands excitedly.

"What of Seychelles, how is she doing?" asked England, trying to steer America's conversation away from Ukraine.

"She still likes me better," said France flatly.

"What? Does not! Why would she like you better!" demanded England.

"Well…you did snap a dog collar around her neck when you first met," observed France.

"A dog collar! Ha! Iggy's an old pervert!" laughed America, now distracted from Ukraine in the worst possible way.

"W-what! No! You have it all wrong! I was c-colonizing her!" stammered England.

France hummed, pleased with herself, "Sounds kinky."

* * *

Meanwhile, Hungary, much like Big Brother, was indeed watching. Much like France, she just so happened to be on a roof, at night, with infrared goggles and listening devices, quite incidentally a stone's throw away from the Hotel Grade Bretagne. She also just so happened to be dressed in black. It was all very coincidental, and she of course never meant to spy on anybody. It just sort of, happened.

Hungary pulled the goggles away from her eyes and turned down the volume on her earpiece. So, Canada and America both liked Ukraine, and nobody had any idea which of the brothers she preferred. England possibly had a thing for Seychelles. Hungary smiled. This was a juicy bit of gossip, all overheard quite by accident of course.

But the question was, what to do with this gossip? She could of course leave well enough alone and let everyone sort out their feelings by themselves. But that would not be…helpful…and Hungary enjoyed being…helpful. Matchmaking was fun, but who would be best with who? She peered through the goggles and smiled before taking out a notebook.

"Well, this situation is quite interesting, lets see who I can set up with who…"

* * *

Meanwhile meanwhile; Latvia was unable to get into the hotel (Russia had not given him much money) and was on the same roof as Hungary, hiding in a barrel. How she had not spotted him, Latvia might never know. Quietly, he pulled out his phone, thankful he had turned off the sound and made a call.

"M-Mister Russia…? We might have a small problem…"


	7. Confucius Say No More Confucius say joke

Confucius say, stop telling Confucius say jokes!

"Why are we going to China? He said if we wanted to turn back into men we would have to build lots of temples and die. I don't want to die!" protested America.

"Calm down America! Look, I'm not just basing it on that. If you look at the history of Buddhism, the first appearances of female bodhisattva are found in China," explained England, "In fact, one particular bodhisattva was-"

"NERD!" yelled America.

England sighed and palmed her forehead. Why did she even bother trying to explain things to America? Really? It was always like this. The boy…or…girl…had never listened to anyone, like an ADD squirrel or something. England secured his bags in the hold of America's jet. They were leaving Greece behind, the first attempt at turning back was a failure.

"By the way England, if you're a girl, does that mean Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are girls too?" asked America.

"I think we would have heard about it by now if they had," reasoned England.

"Good, I don't even want to think of Scotland as a girl. I mean, Scotland's already scary. Can you imagine Scotland with PMS?" rambled America.

"My god…" gasped England, "What would be horrible."

"Yeah, I know and Scotland's really hairy and hairy chicks are kind of gross so-"

"No America!" exclaimed England, "PMS! PMS!"

"What about it?" asked America.

"We're women America, women have periods," said England slowly and forebodingly, "We have to reverse that before we start…start…menstruating!"

"Oh my god!" yelled America, "No! No that can't happen! I don't want a special time of the month!"

America took off screaming incoherently about how embarrassing purchasing tampons would be as England followed behind, trying not to stare at America's posterior. America all put dove into the cockpit of the plane and did not even wait for Canada to take the copilot's seat. France looked over at the sweaty, frazzled and all around freaked out America inquisitively.

"Angleterre, what did you do to make him like that?" asked France.

"Just a…frightening observation about our predicament…" whispered England.

"If it's about how awkward it is using the bathroom for the first time, don't worry, you get over it," said France nonchalantly, "Unless you're Canada it seems. She's been in there almost an hour…I hope she'll be alright…"

"No, no, I've…already gotten over it…" mumbled England, "It's…well…if we're girls, we'll have…you know…periods…"

"What, is that all you're worried about? Really, that's so immature," tisk-ed France, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"How can you be so calm about it?" demanded England.

"Well, if all girls have them, and all girls can easily move on with their lives despite it, we should be fine. It's not that big of a deal," shrugged France, "I think you're blowing this out of proportion."

"I've been magically transformed into a woman, and you think I'm blowing this situation out of proportion?" groaned England.

"Precisely," said France, fastening herself into her seat.

* * *

Meanwhile in the conveniently place air vent, Hungary was listening in on the bizarre conversation with the spy equipment she just so happened to have on her person. It was not like she was being a stalker or anything, it was all entirely coincidental. She giggled as she listened to the foolish musings of the men turned women. Normally she preferred…accidentally stumbling upon…men and not men who had been turned into women, but it was just so interesting to listen to.

So interesting, she just so happened to be walking by when she saw the four of them pile into a car yelling something about Greece. And since she just so happened to have a vacation, she coincidentally decided to go to Greece as well. She also just so happened to be on a roof across from where their hotel room was. It had all been lucky for her, since she found it interesting, that they just happened to keep running into each other like this.

Who knew it would be their private jet she stowed away on? Certainly not Hungary, and that would be the story she told the cops if she was caught.

"Um…Miss Hungary?"

The ex-nomad whirled around to find Lativa, peeking out at her from of all things, a barrel. How he had managed to sneak up on her in a barrel, let alone get the barrel into an air vent, was beyond her. All the same, she raised her trusty frying pan, ready to strike if necessary and ask questions later.

"W-wait! I have an offer for you from Mr. Russia!" yelped the Baltic nation.

"From Russia?" asked Hungary.

"Y-yes…you see, Mr. Russia was mad at America, so he set things up to give them a little scare," stammered Latvia, "B-but, he liked the face Canada made when he…I mean…she…screamed so, he wants to do it again…"

"I see, so you want me to work with Russia," said Hungary haughtily, "And why would I want to do that?"

"He has doujinshi, lots of doujinshi," offered Latvia.

Hungary thought it over for a moment, "Well, I could always use more doujinshi…but why Russia's sudden interest in Canada?"

"I don't really know," mumbled Latvia, "Lithuania just said he looked really happy when he saw Canada freak out and Russia wanted to see him again."

Hungary nodded as she took in the story. Immediately her yaoi fangirl brain jumped to the most pleasing conclusions. Russia had somehow fallen in love with Canada and was displaying his affection through juvenile pranks. Hungary stiffened; if she could make Canada a man again, she could have hot Northern yaoi just a short flight away! Yes, she would assist Russia, get him to hook up with Canada and then change Canada back into a man! And maybe, just maybe she could have some sweet US/UK on the side…

"Well, it seems we have similar goals, Russia and I," mused Hungary, "I'll do it, but I'd like a little extra something in addition to the doujinshi."

"Name it, Mr. Russia really admires your skills of…conveniently stumbling upon people while you have spy gear in your possession," said Latvia.

"Research, I want you guys to help me figure out how to turn them back into men," said Hungary.

* * *

"Hey Alf- Freda…Do you ever get the feeling we're being watched? Like, there could be a perverted stalker on board this jet without us knowing it?" asked Canada, "See, I watched this creepy episode of CSI a few nights ago about this guy in a body suit who stabbed people to get revenge…and I just haven't been able to get it out of my head."

"We have no time for television Maddie!" snapped America, "We're on a mission! We have to change ourselves back into men!"

Canada blinked, "Wow, I didn't know you could be so focused. What brought this on?"

"Tampons," said America angrily, "There is no way in hell I'm buying tampons…I'm not buying pads either."

Canada rolled his eyes and checked the air pressure again as the jet flew higher in the sky, "Then just use birth control pills to keep your period away until we change back, though you should probably check with a doctor before trying anything like that."

"I don't want to buy birth control pills! Old ladies at the drug store will judge me and think I'm a tramp! And old people smell bad!" yelled America.

"Whatever you say…" mumbled Canada.

"By the way, what took you so long in the bathroom, I thought you drowned in there for a minute," said America.

"I…I uh…" said Canada, a blush spreading across his face, "I'm still not used to it…"

"Come on, the rest of us are fine with it," shrugged America, "Sheesh Maddie, you're so immature about this whole thing."

Canada resisted the urge to strangle America and plotted their course out on a map.

* * *

_Man that's a lot of crude humour. Homosexuality, check, toilet humour, check, transgenderism, check...damn I think I've offended everybody with this chapter! _


End file.
